


Fate’s Cruelest Kindness

by QueenOfRohirrim



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Elf/Human Relationship(s), Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mentions of Character Death, Mentions of Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 02:32:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfRohirrim/pseuds/QueenOfRohirrim
Summary: “To the Elven King he gave the Emeralds of Girion, such jewels as he loved most...”- The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien





	Fate’s Cruelest Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write something dealing with the Emeralds of Girion. Honestly, I feel like they are canonical proof of Barduil.

“Your hair is lovely, King Thranduil.”

“Tilda.” Bard warned his daughter lightly.

“May I touch it?” 

“Tilda!” The girl’s blushing father scolded her again. 

Thranduil only smiled faintly. “Thank you, my dear.” He told the Bowman’s daughter. “But if you please, I would rather my hair not be touched.” 

“I’m so sorry, my lord Thranduil...” Bard rushed to apologize for his curious daughter. 

“No need.” The Elven King assured the new ruler of Dale. “You forget, dear friend, that I am a father as well. Your children do not frighten me.”

“All the same, Tilda, you are excused from the table. Go and find your sister. She’ll help you prepare for bed.” Bard said to his youngest, who frowned with obvious disappointment as she scooted her chair back and climbed down from her spot next to her father. 

Thranduil watched her go over the rim of his goblet. “Do not fret, child.” He called softly after the girl. “You have done me no harm.”

Tilda turned her head and smiled sweetly back at Thranduil before she hurried off to find Sigrid.

“She’s a darling little thing.” Thranduil told Bard, setting his wine down onto the table. “I believe she takes her charm from her father.”

Bard managed a slight, nervous smile then. “You haven’t seen her throw one of her infamous tantrums yet.” He told the Elven King. “She takes more after her mother in that aspect.”

Thranduil chuckled, his strikingly blue eyes staring longingly across the table at the King of Dale, who only blushed and busied himself with cutting into the last piece of lamb on his plate.

“Why won’t you look at me, meleth?” The elf inquired, his amused smirk fading into a worried frown. “You have not looked into my eyes since I arrived in your city...Have I offended you?”

“No!” Bard suddenly looked up, dropping his fork and knife and letting them both clatter and clink off of the table. “No, my lord, you have not offended me at all. I...”

“I have told you, Meleth, to call me by my name.” Thranduil stated firmly. 

“Yes, Thranduil, you have.” Bard swallowed hard. “Forgive me. I am still trying to comprehend my new status in this world. It doesn’t seem right to me.”

“I was not speaking of titles.” Thranduil sighed. “I had thought that perhaps you were interested in more than just my occasional presence in your bed.”

“I am.” Bard assured his lover, voice firm and without any hint of deception. “I did not ask you to return to Dale for no reason at all. I have something for you. A gift.”

Thranduil raised his brow ever so slightly.

Bard looked from the Elf King to the doorway leading out of the dining hall. “Percy!” He called to his most trusted sentry. 

“Aye, your Grace?” The old man answered, stepping into the room to hear his King’s command. 

“Fetch the jewels, please.” Bard requested. “In the locked box atop my wardrobe. You know the ones.” 

Percy nodded and bowed to the King, then took his leave to bring what Bard had asked of him.

“Jewels?” Thranduil inquired. 

“Aye. The finest jewels in the city.” Bard answered, looking back to his Elvish lover with the utmost adoration in his nervous dark eyes. “You deserve no less.”

Percy returned quickly, now carrying in his feeble old arms a large polished box of beech wood. 

“Ah, here they are.” Bard smiled, standing from his chair and relieving Percy of his burden with a very grateful “thank you”. 

Thranduil eyed the box inquisitively, wondering what on earth could be inside. He had received his white gems from Erebor shortly after the Battle of the Five Armies had been won. There was nothing more in Oakenshied’s mountain that he desired. 

So what was this gift the Dragon Slayer had intended for him? 

“Thranduil, son of Oropher...” Bard spoke to the elf once Percy had gone from the room. “I would be honored if you would accept this token of my love for you...”

The King of Dale unlatched the lock upon the beechwood box and opened it slowly to reveal the most wonderful necklace of vibrant gold and glistening, shimmering emerald stones. The Emeralds of Girion, Lord of Dale. The heirlooms of a family long lost to the new King. 

“Bard,” Thranduil began, stunned at the offer that had been laid at his feet. “These gems are sacred. They were most precious to your ancestors. You cannot give them to me.” 

“You are most precious to me.” Bard responded quickly, admitting, all at once, everything he felt for the Elven King. “I would have you wear them, and if it be your will, I would have you marry me.”

Thranduil’s breath caught in his throat for a moment and he gasped at the suggestion. 

“You know not what you ask of me.” He said to his human lover.

“I do.” Bard insisted. “I have wanted nothing more since I first laid my eyes upon you.”

Thranduil was truly shaken. 

“I am elf kind.” He said then, regretfully. “You are mortal...”

“I know that.” Bard nodded. “And If it would cause you less pain to walk away from me now, I would not stop you...I do not wish to be the cause of your grief. Not ever.”

Thranduil reached a hand out to touch the glittering emeralds being offered to him. 

“I carry pain now.” He spoke softly. “I have carried this pain for more than two thousand years...I have not known true happiness for just as many.” 

Bard’s hopes sank and he lowered his gaze from Thranduil, looking to the floor so that his own grief would not be seen.

“Do not look away from me, meleth.” Thranduil urged his lover, and Bard obeyed, lifting his eyes to meet the Elven King’s again. 

“You do not wish to marry again, only to be hurt once more.” He sighed. “I understand.”

“No, I am afraid you do not.” Thranduil replied. “Two thousand years is far too long to live in a companionless agony...I have longed for new love for nearly an age, sweet Dragon Slayer. I will marry you.”

Bard took in a long deep breath as the disappointment fled his face and a smile quickly appeared in its place. “You will?” He asked Thranduil. “Truly?”

“Truly.” The elf confirmed with a bow of his head. 

It was all Bard could do to contain the joy bursting within his heart as he removed the Emerald’s of Girion from their box of polished beech wood and carefully fastened them around Thranduil’s neck.

“I promise, my love, to cherish every moment that we are granted together.” Bard spoke with a trembling voice as he leaned down to kiss Thranduil. A few tears escaped his eyes and rolled down his face.

“I vow to do the same.” Thranduil answered him between kisses. “Every wonderful, precious moment...”

It was a blessed day when the King of Mirkwood accepted the proposal of the King of Dale, but Thranduil knew in his heart that it was also this day which marked the beginning of the end of his own time spent in the realm of the living.

He would not linger in sadness any longer. 

When his Dragon Slayer left him for the next life, the Elven King would go with him.

This, Thranduil had already decided.


End file.
